Meng Xinghui woke from his unconscious state and realized he was in the living room. The spacious area was empty, and the fear that Shen Qiu had stormed out in anger seized him. He scrambled to his feet, searching frantically. “Shen Qiu!”
His voice was hoarse and choked with sobs. “Shen Qiu, where are you?”
There was no answer.
His heart felt as if it were being crushed by an invisible hand, ready to shatter at any moment.
In his desperation, Meng Xinghui stumbled blindly, his knee slamming into the sharp corner of the coffee table. He barely noticed the pain, continuing to call out, “Shen Qiu, please come out.” He tried to make his way toward the stairs to search upstairs.
“Shen Qiu, please, just come out.”
“You idiot, I’m right here.”
Hearing the familiar voice, Meng Xinghui turned.
Shen Qiu was standing in the kitchen doorway, holding a spatula.
The two stared at each other for a long moment. The man opposite him had eyes that grew redder by the second, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on Shen Qiu. He leaned against the stair railing, looking as if he might break apart at any moment.
Shen Qiu relented, breaking the stalemate. “I made congee and some side dishes. Want to eat?”
“Yes.” Meng Xinghui pressed his dry lips together and, limping on his injured knee, followed Shen Qiu into the kitchen to help him bring the dishes to the table.
Shen Qiu gripped his chopsticks. “There was only cabbage and cucumber in the fridge, so that’s all I could make.”
A piece of oyster sauce cabbage was added to Meng Xinghui’s bowl.
“I’ll have someone deliver more vegetables later,” Meng Xinghui murmured, chewing the food in his bowl as if Shen Qiu wasn’t that angry.
Shen Qiu’s voice turned icy as he began his scathing critique. “I thought President Meng had no one under his command. Yet he can still order people to deliver vegetables? Why didn’t he arrange for someone to stay here? He’d just have to endure the pain when an attack comes.”
Meng Xinghui bit down on his chopsticks in unease, forcing the words out: “Just bear with it.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” he added quickly, unable to hide his gaze as Shen Qiu’s expression darkened.
He realized Shen Qiu was angry.
Meng Xinghui felt a wave of sadness, convinced it was his fault. He was so terrible.
Shen Qiu didn’t speak again. Meng Xinghui silently finished the food in his bowl, though it tasted more bitter with every bite. Still, he didn’t stop.
He wouldn’t waste the food Shen Qiu had cooked; he had to eat it all.
His stomach felt bloated, but Meng Xinghui kept eating.
Only after Shen Qiu left did tears fall into his rice, which he chewed and swallowed.
He threw all the bowls and chopsticks into the trash, then sent Li Li a list of the dishes and items Shen Qiu might need, instructing him to deliver them immediately after purchase.
These were all things Shen Qiu liked to eat.
With his heart hanging in suspense and his spirit exhausted, Meng Xinghui hesitated outside the “birdcage” for a long time. Finally, he went back inside and lay down beside Shen Qiu, though they kept a wide distance between them.
He silently suppressed his sobs, terrified of waking Shen Qiu.
Meng Xinghui fell asleep with tears in his eyes, still occasionally choking back sobs, as if he were the one who had been wronged, not Shen Qiu.
Shen Qiu sighed helplessly, convincing himself that Meng Xinghui must be suffering from depression, and that all his actions deserved full understanding.
Besides, he realized he wasn’t actually that repulsed by Meng Xinghui’s closeness—it was just all too sudden.
After all, who could stay calm after waking up to find themselves being assaulted by a subordinate?
Shen Qiu had not only wasted his time and money on Meng Xinghui, but he had also thrown himself into the mix.
He pulled the man beside him into his arms, resting his chin on the fluffy top of his head. A “Queen of the Night” it is, then, he thought.
But this depression and stomach ailment still needed to be cured.
Poor President Meng was still internally grieving, his brow furrowed in sorrow.
In his dream, he saw Shen Qiu abandoning him, forbidding Meng Xinghui from seeing him. He cried out and pleaded in the pouring rain, but the man who had saved him on that rainy night would never appear again.
He had driven Shen Qiu away.
Meng Xinghui’s dream reached this point, and the redness at the corners of his eyes deepened. Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably, his sobs breaking Shen Qiu’s heart.
Shen Qiu gently wiped the tears from Meng Xinghui’s eyes, his voice filled with tenderness. “Be good, our Xinghui, don’t cry. Your boss is awake, so why are you still crying? I didn’t even scold you for taking your boss’s first time.”
“You little rascal, locking your boss in a birdcage… who taught you to do that?” Shen Qiu wrapped his arms around Meng Xinghui’s waist, pulling him against his chest.
Meng Xinghui couldn’t hear him. He stared at the hand before him—the person he loved had appeared.
Shen Qiu’s eyes were full of warmth. “Why do you look so wronged again? Who’s bullying our Meng Xinghui?”
Our.
Meng Xinghui gazed blankly as Shen Qiu took his hand. Their warmth merged, melting the icy chill of that rainy night.
Cradled in Shen Qiu’s embrace, Meng Xinghui kept his head tilted up, terrified of missing a single moment of Shen Qiu’s presence. He hated the motionless Shen Qiu on the bed; he loved this living, breathing Shen Qiu.
“Shen Qiu, can you please love me?”
“I want to be your boyfriend, your lover.”
“I want to be with you forever.”
“Shen Qiu!”
Rain fell steadily, a storm battering the city. In the distance, the dim streetlights flickered on the darkened road, leaving only the two of them.
Shen Qiu kept protecting the person in his arms. Though the rain soaked his clothes, his embrace remained warm.
Meng Xinghui thought he heard a voice whisper in his ear.
“Alright.”
The voice was so familiar it made his ears tingle, and the tears at the corners of his eyes stopped.
The person in his arms finally ceased crying, a faint smile curving his lips. His pale face, still streaked with tears, looked pitiful.
“Poor thing, I’ll forgive you just a little. The rest depends on your performance.” Shen Qiu’s tense heart finally relaxed, and he let go of his last line of defense as he held the other man tight.
Li Li was surprised to receive a message from Meng Xinghui. Normally, he only went up the mountain once every month or two to deliver supplies. This was likely because Mr. Shen had woken up.
The journey up the mountain took over an hour along the winding road. Meng Xinghui had purchased this mountain two years ago. After the castle was completed, he moved Mr. Shen in and rarely came out.
Most of the company’s daily operations were handled by Manager Lin. Except for major project decisions, Meng Xinghui only appeared at the quarterly shareholder meetings.
Life was full of twists and turns. Once his colleague at a hotel, Meng Xinghui was now the head of one of the top technology giants both domestically and internationally. Out of loyalty to their old friendship, he had kept him by his side as a bodyguard.
He knew how difficult these past few years had been for Meng Xinghui, and he also knew the deep, hidden love President Meng harbored for Mr. Shen.
Fortunately, Mr. Shen had finally woken up.
If he hadn’t, President Meng would have broken down.
Shen Qiu turned a page of his book, leaning back on the balcony’s lounge chair. Not far away, a pair of eyes stared fixedly at him, afraid to miss a single movement.
The eyes were round and wide, just like a wronged kitten begging its owner for forgiveness.
The sigh that had been hovering in Shen Qiu’s chest finally escaped. At a normal pace, he would have finished the book in his hand long ago. “Don’t you have anything else to do?”
“No, I’ve arranged everything,” Meng Xinghui said, bringing over a stool and quietly scooting it closer.
The dark shadow crept forward step by step, almost merging with Shen Qiu’s back.
Meng Xinghui took the initiative to strike up a conversation. “What are we eating today?”
Shen Qiu pretended not to notice Meng Xinghui’s approach. His thin lips parted slightly as he pondered the ingredients remaining in the fridge. “Sautéed pork with chili and tomato egg soup.”
Then Shen Qiu met Meng Xinghui’s gaze. Meng Xinghui’s complexion had improved a lot lately. These past few days, Shen Qiu had been the one cooking, and Meng Xinghui had been eating along with him, having three regular meals a day.
“You cook.”
Meng Xinghui seemed dazed. “Me? I’m cooking?”
“Yes. I don’t want to say it twice. Has President Meng not cooked in so long that he’s forgotten all his skills?” Shen Qiu placed the book back on the shelf.
“No, I’ll make it for you right away.” Meng Xinghui happily hurried to the kitchen.
Shen Qiu pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to find a way out. Staying here every day, he could navigate the place with his eyes closed.
Besides, if this continued—playing house with Meng Xinghui—the kid would never even think about having a real talk with him.
After Shen Qiu finished his book, the person who had been standing outside on the balcony for a long time finally spoke, his voice so soft it was almost negligible. “Shen Qiu, I’ve finished cooking.”
Shen Qiu’s vision went dark. What should he do? As he ate the food in his bowl, the person opposite him watched his every move with cautious attention.
He took a bite of the stir-fried meat, and Meng Xinghui followed suit, picking up a piece.
Meng Xinghui had lost a lot of weight. His loungewear hung loosely on his frame, the healthy flesh he’d once carried now gone. His face had filled out slightly, showing the maturity and experience gained from the professional world.
Sensing Shen Qiu’s gaze, Meng Xinghui subtly shifted, angling his best profile toward him. He nervously pressed his lips together. Will he be satisfied?
What had Li Li said? Men love to see their partners at their most beautiful.
But he wasn’t Shen Qiu’s partner. He wasn’t even his boyfriend. He was a villain who had usurped his place and taken advantage of his boss.
Meng Xinghui bit his lip sorrowfully.
Shen Qiu’s eyes darkened. “We need to talk. I’m a free man. President Meng, you can’t keep me locked up here forever.”
“Besides,” he continued, “I treated you so well before. You can’t do this to me. Restricting my personal freedom is wrong, President Meng.”
President Meng. Being addressed so formally made it clear he was still angry—angry at him.
Each word Shen Qiu spoke was like a dagger, slicing through Meng Xinghui’s flesh. In an instant, his face turned pale, the corners of his eyes reddened, and tears threatened to spill over.
“I’m—sorry, I’m—sorry, Shen Qiu, but I can’t. I—”
Meng Xinghui’s breathing quickened. He knocked over the bowls and chopsticks on the table, unable to contain the surge of sorrow. The crushing weight of depression swept through his mind, draining him of all reason. Sweat and tears blurred his vision as he stumbled away.
Shen Qiu followed and grabbed Meng Xinghui’s wrist. It was terrifyingly thin. He immediately loosened his grip, afraid he might snap the delicate bone.
“What’s wrong? Is it your depression acting up?” Shen Qiu’s head throbbed. Four years. Four years, and Meng Xinghui was back with a stomach ailment and depression. Shen Qiu wished he could drag his past self out and give him a good scolding. How could a perfectly healthy person be reduced to this in just four years?
At the mention of the word “depression,” Meng Xinghui’s pupils dilated, and he violently shook off Shen Qiu’s hand.
Caught off guard, Shen Qiu stumbled back, his spine slamming into the railing. Pain radiated through his back.
Meng Xinghui saw Shen Qiu’s brow furrow in pain. He had hurt him. He had always wanted to protect Shen Qiu, to keep him from harm. Now, sweat beaded on his own forehead, and his hair clung damply to his skin.
He was a wretched mess. He was so ugly, so terrible. He hated himself like this.
He’s not pretty anymore. Shen Qiu won’t like him like this.
Meng Xinghui forced his eyes away, stumbling as he gripped the banister. The self-loathing in his mind drowned out everything else.
“Meng Xinghui!” Shen Qiu’s voice called out, but he couldn’t stop him, couldn’t even reach him. Meng Xinghui was completely deaf to his words.
The gold-inlaid, vintage-style door slammed shut in Shen Qiu’s face. He clenched his fist and knocked, trying to keep his voice steady so as not to frighten Meng Xinghui. “Meng Xinghui, open the door. Let me see you.”
Shen Qiu’s worried voice struck Meng Xinghui like a symphony of life, jolting him awake. He stared at his hands in bitter regret, tears streaming down his face as he fumbled with the pill bottle. He tilted his head back and forced the tablets down his throat, the pills scraping against his esophagus. Tears clung to his eyelashes.
He curled himself into a ball behind the office desk.
From a distance, all that could be seen in the study was the sound of muffled sobs and a whispered “I’m sorry.” No one was visible.